


Handle With Care

by farrah_yondale



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: A lot of talking, And Sypha bullying Trevor as usual, F/M, Funny, Sex, Trepha, Trephy, or at least it's supposed to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farrah_yondale/pseuds/farrah_yondale
Summary: Sypha has certain demands of Trevor, but he’s not sure whether he’ll be able to meet them given his anxieties.





	Handle With Care

**Author's Note:**

> My first smut fic :disappointed_emoji: and it's out of Spite, as usual. 
> 
> I wrote a really mean rant here originally because I hate how these two are always written (whether it's smut or not) but honestly, I can't believe how out of character they are in sexual situations. Do you guys really think these two know how to be sexy at all?
> 
> Also there's one line in here I had Trevor say that made me physically disintegrate in front of my friend, so I can never look at that again and please don't bring it up EVER. I don't know what you're talking about.

 

Loving Sypha had its perks. She was attentive, doting and her smile sent Trevor’s heart galloping so wildly, time itself seemed to stand still in awe at the sight. He would have done anything at all to see that smile, lay down his life for her, sacrifice everything he ever had, even wade through the last decade of bottled up emotions he refused to confront if it meant making himself better for her sake.

He had followed her back to the Belmont hold at her insistence. Something about research, Sypha had said, that was probably just a carefully crafted excuse for her to explore the depths of his library at her leisure. There was no longer the ever-looming presence of Dracula or the demon hordes on the horizon, so there was no hurry for them to return to the road. Run-of-the-mill vampires would always plague Wallachia, but there was nothing currently out there in dire need of burning or whipping.

And so Trevor had sat, uselessly browsing through books he could barely understand and knives collecting dust, listening to Sypha ramble on and on about whatever new thing she had discovered. He had no idea what the hell she was talking about half the time, but he would smile anyway. He could listen to her chatter excitedly about anything for hours.

On occasions where she would retreat into silence and mull over a stack of texts, he found himself missing her voice and sought her out.

Trevor found her, cross-legged over a table lodged between bookshelves. Sypha’s head sprung up from her book.

“Ah, Trevor, there you are.” She looked delighted to see him. “I want an orgasm,” she said as matter-of-factly as if she were requesting groceries from the marketplace.

Trevor cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“I want an orgasm,” she repeated, as if the statement needed repeating. As if the mere thought of giving Sypha an orgasm weren’t mind-blowingly ridiculous to Trevor and hadn’t made his balls shrivel up in his scrotum from anxiety.

Loving Sypha had its perks.

But it also led to moments like these, where Trevor would stand staring and blinking and wondering why on earth God had to have matched him with this particular woman of all people.

Trevor cleared his throat again.

“Does orgasm mean something else in Adamic I don’t know or…?”

To his utter horror (or delight, he wasn’t really sure at this point), she slipped off the table and looked directly at his face, and Trevor didn’t bother clearing his throat this time because he was quite sure his heart had lodged itself in it and he would never be able to speak again.

“Trevor, I’m saying I want to have sex with you.”

Trevor blinked. Then inhaled. Then felt every pore on his body open up and dump a year’s worth of sweat over him.

His only response then was to turn his head in embarrassment.

“What? You don’t want to have sex with me?” Her accusatory voice was laced with amusement. She was teasing him, but even her mock anger was enough to send him fumbling.

“N-no,” he managed, jerking his head back towards her. “Wait, I do. I mean, I’ve definitely thought about it before—I mean, not the sex bit. I would never think about you like that, I mean not that you aren’t attractive—you are, I just…” Every word he added to his string of incoherent nonsense only seemed to dig him deeper into the metaphorical rabbit hole. He thought it better to shut up.

Sypha looked up at him and giggled. She was completely undeterred by his fumbling, and that was what he so admired about her in the first place. She always seemed so determined to get what she wanted. And if she wanted an orgasm, by _God_ , she would get her orgasm even if it meant wading through a mire of Trevor’s inhibitions and anxieties. (Provided, of course, that Trevor consented to the act.)

And in a moment of unusual tenderness, she spoke gently, like his mind might shatter like glass if she spoke any more roughly. (Perfectly reasonable, because Trevor really did fear something of his might shatter like glass, though it wasn’t his mind)

“Trevor, just be honest. Do you want to have sex with me?”

He inhaled at the thought. “God,” he managed. “Yes.”

She gestured for him to come towards her, and he could no longer hold himself back. He swooped down on her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up in a kiss. He had kissed her before, but they had been restrained or chaste, for fear of one of his organs leading to an awkward exchange. But now.

Now, he needed said organ to function, but it remained as limp as a rag doll.

Trevor buried the thought in the kisses he laid over Sypha’s face. He loved the way she smiled into her cheeks, how he didn’t need to see her to know she was giddy. She laughed at the sensation of Trevor’s beard rubbing against her skin, her head leaning back involuntarily from being tickled, and she stopped snorting and giggling only when Trevor pressed his nose to hers, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

They breathed in each other’s silence for a while. Trevor dared open his eyes, only to see her glow in the firelight. He could lose himself in her. He’d never been eloquent. He wasn’t a Speaker, nor was he well-versed in literature, but when he looked at Sypha he could almost convince himself he was some mad poet instead of a vampire hunter.

And then Sypha’s hands, probing and always curious, snaked their way down to his trousers, and Trevor felt reality come crashing down on him. Even with her fingers brushing him, his anxiety seemed to prevent his organ from functioning entirely.

Sypha, to his relief, didn’t seem to mind and pressed herself to him, staring up at him. “Should I get that box of spells I found?” she teased.

Trevor narrowed his brow, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “Shut up.”

Sypha laughed and hugged him again. She hummed, pressing her cheek into his chest, and Trevor cradled her head, reveling in the feeling of _her_. She pulled away from him only to look up at him with flushed cheeks.

He found himself wanting and kissed her again, this time more eagerly, pushing her back against the table and steadying her.

“There are other ways you can help me,” she said. It was a tease. She was flirting, but Trevor’s wavering voice gave him away.

“Uh, how?” he asked. It was a serious response to a light-hearted statement, and Sypha picked up on his hesitation immediately.

“Wait, have you never done this before?”

Faintly, he detected a hint of eagerness in her voice. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Teaching, reciting, probing, experimenting. Those were all her favorite things. Sypha was probably more aroused at the prospect of teaching him how to have sex than actually having sex with him.

“Well, no,” Trevor admitted. It took all his strength not to make his embarrassment apparent over his face. “I spent my childhood fixing crucifixes and consulting a bestiary. The only anatomy I learned was what weapon to shove into what part of a demon. Human anatomy wasn’t included. I mean—I know of some things,” he added to save face and blushed sheepishly. It was probably too late for him to gather some semblance of respect back, but he had never been particularly smart about shutting up when speaking made things worse. “I’ve seen illustrations…” he fumbled nervously, unable to say anything substantial. He really was just making everything worse. “Heard…rumors. And things. And, uh…I know what a clitoris is,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“God be praised,” Sypha responded sarcastically.

That was it. Sypha was going to shove him aside and bury herself in a dull book that could have given her a better orgasm, and everything lovely between them was going to end. Trevor felt his heart sink into his stomach.

She responded instead with, “It’s fine.”

Trevor gave her a doubtful look.

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Trevor, I don’t care.”

“You’re fine with me being entirely unskilled?”

“Sex is a conversation. Not a skill.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not particularly good at that either.”

She giggled and laid an appeasing kiss over his lips. It was enough to melt his inhibitions regarding her. He relaxed into her and let her lead.

Methodically, she slipped out of her robes, pulling her skirt down and folding it in half before placing it on the shelf behind her. She undid the sash around her waist and did the same with it. All of this was done in an orderly fashion, and Trevor wasn’t sure whether he should be disappointed. He expected stripping before sex to involve foreplay or sensuality. Instead, it felt like he was just joining Sypha in doing her laundry.

Sypha slid back on the table and spread her legs like a merchant eager to present her wares.

“Come here,” Sypha ordered.

Trevor slipped between her knees. He wasn’t sure if he should touch her at first, and only when she beckoned him forward again did he move closer and run his hand along her thigh. Her skin was soft and warm, and she didn’t complain, so he continued, smoothing his hand over her knee.

Sypha guided his left hand between her folds, towards the top just where they began to part.

She let out a very satisfactory sigh as his fingers pressed into her.

Most of what Trevor did was instinct. He knew very little of sex, but he was familiar enough with someone of Sypha’s anatomy: that the soft, budding spot between her legs would give her the most pleasure, that he could tease at her entrance but it would probably only give her a few seconds of excitement before leaving her bored. So he focused his attentions where it mattered.

Sypha inhaled and ran her hand along Trevor’s forearm as if to spur him. She flinched and shuddered as he circled her, and he froze, fearing that he might have hurt her.

“Not there,” she said, voice strained. She began to guide his hand again, circling his hand over her clit. She shuddered again when he reached the bottom, under the hood, and Trevor recoiled his fingers back again. “I’m too sensitive there.”

He circled her then as instructed, over the hood where it was less sensitive, and only occasionally flicking his finger where she was tender. She didn’t protest the matter and grinned every time he did it, and he liked the way she’d shudder at the small shock of overstimulation. He watched her earnestly, reveling in the sound of her pleased sighs, the way sweat began to bead over her chest as his motions became more frantic.

Trevor was surprised then, when she suddenly told him to stop.

“Was that not good?” he asked fearfully, watching her lean over him to sit herself up.

“It’s not that,” Sypha sighed. “I just…struggle sometimes. I’ve always been difficult.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Trevor laughed and Sypha pinched his arm playfully.

She cupped his face then and kissed his lips gently. There was nothing unusual about the act, so he was surprised to see her blushing deeply when they separated.

“There’s something else I want you to do.” He shivered at the way she murmured it into his lips. Lost in a daze, he had half a mind to murmur back, “Anything, anything for you.” But then she tugged his hair delicately so that his head was between her thighs and made it incredibly apparent what she wanted him to do.

Trevor swallowed. He glanced up at her. “Sypha, I don’t…” Swallowed again. “I don’t know what to do.”

Her fingers were soft and appeasing in his hair. She stared at him, eyes half-lidded, still smiling that perpetually sleepy little smile of hers. “Just try,” she whispered, gently. Gently enough for Trevor to know that she still didn’t care what he did and didn’t know, just that she wanted to experience all these things with him.

His eyes flicked to the spot between her legs, slick and worked through. He’d never been so thoroughly intimidated by a vagina before, swallowing again before opening his mouth, letting his breath shake over her skin, before shutting it and deciding against it.

Sypha said nothing, protested nothing, easing her fingers through his hair as if to soothe him. Trevor turned his attention instead to the inside of her thigh, pulling her in and kissing her. Kisses, he knew how to do, and Sypha responded with an inhale and a roll of her hips, tugging the leg he had chosen to focus his attention on over his shoulder, close to his ear, so that he could kiss her more easily. He liked kissing her, liked pressing his nose to her skin, liked—most of all—how she curled her fingers tight in his hair and parted her lips in soundless gasps.

He began to work his way up her thigh and kissed her folds. Sypha twitched and giggled in delight, and Trevor smiled to himself.

It was only when he stuck his tongue out that he recoiled and sat back, popping his head up over Sypha’s legs.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, craning her head up.

“You taste disgusting.” Trevor scrunched up his face, shuddering when the bitter taste hit his tongue.

“What did you expect?” She saw the contorted look on his face like he had just swallowed a grapefruit whole and then continued, “Strawberries to burst forth from my vulva? It’s vaginal fluid, not a pot of honey.”

Trevor coughed, ignoring her admonishment. “Wait, let me go wash my mouth.”

He scurried away to a source of water before Sypha could protest. He heard her sigh and lay her head back down against the table before he disappeared behind the bookshelf where they had left their supplies.

“You’re just going to leave me out here cold and exposed?” she chided.

“I’m about to choke on your cum, woman, and you’re worried about feeling a little chilly?”

He heard Sypha snort and then snickered.

Sypha didn’t really taste all that awful. Certainly, he’d drank and eaten worse things, but the combined anxieties over pleasing her and the general surprise that she _really did taste pretty awful_ had him washing his mouth like a dramatic five year old boy who’d been forced to kiss his baby sister on the cheek.

He strolled back over and was suddenly very aware of Sypha’s nakedness.

Of course, she had been completely naked before he’d run away to behind the bookshelf. But he’d been far more focused on her instructions and the thought had hardly registered in his mind.

“Oh my God,” he said before he could stop himself. “You’re naked.” Like it was a surprise.

Sypha’s eyebrows furrowed and her nostrils flared in some sort of display of pity. “Thank you for noticing.” And then she smiled. (Still pitifully, but it was a smile nonetheless.) She beckoned wordlessly for him to come closer.

Trevor obliged her. He realized he was physically attracted to her. Trevor had loved her up till this point because of her mind, because of the way she spoke gently to him, because of her soft, dexterous hands that would hold his in earnest, and now, he realized, he liked her body, too. Best of all, he felt no shame in having this feeling.

He kissed her once along the jaw, below the ear and then pulled back and drank in the sight of her. She was tan, darker than Trevor even, now that the winter clouds had parted for a sunnier spring, with lighter lines all over where she was scarred. Thin, not so much that she looked starved, but she had enough fat over her abdomen that Trevor could brush his fingers along it and pinch.

“My tummy,” Sypha cooed like a baby and then giggled into his face. He kissed her, laughed when she giggled at him pulling at the rolls of fat at her waist.

He leaned into her and whispered, voice low, “Let me fill it with something.”

“Ew.”

There was a pause, where Sypha gave him a judgmental look, and if Trevor hadn’t irritated her for the last hour, he might have thought that meant this session was coming to an end.

“Don’t try to be sexy and just take off your clothes,” she said after a minute.

He only just realized he was still fully clothed. Briefly, he thought he had been impolite not stripping back when she had done the same, but his mind had been so thoroughly addled that he couldn’t do anything but stare at her. Trevor turned around, beginning to undo his belt, only to realize how stupid it was to turn around as if to hide his body. But it felt even more awkward to turn back around and have her stare at him amused, so he stood where he was and only turned back around when he was properly naked.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, giggling. As if she had guessed his entire awkward thought process.

“And you’re having sex with an idiot, so what does that make you?”

Sypha paused to think of her answer. “An idiot’s lover.”

“It’s not my fault I have to balance you out.”

“Also,” she added, ignoring him. “You’re circumcised.” She sounded relieved.

“What? Would you have ended this with me if I weren’t?”

Sypha blinked sheepishly at him. “Possibly.”

“Seriously?”

Sypha laughed softly and kissed him again. Her lips were warm, a little more fervent, perhaps excited at the sight of him. Trevor felt exposed and uncomfortable at first, but as Sypha’s arms wrapped around his waist and steadied him, he began to like the way being naked against her felt.

“God,” he breathed into her skin, kissing along her neck, her clavicle, down along her sternum. He slipped his fingers between her legs, parting her. She kicked reflexively at the sudden touch, but conveyed her satisfaction with a smile. It didn’t take long for her to reach climax with all the previous foreplay, and it was the first time Trevor heard her groan instead of giggle or make fun of him.

Sypha shuddered, hugged him close and dug her nails into his back as she groaned.

“Oh, Sypha,” he whispered into her ear, cradling her head. For a few seconds, he let her quiver against him like that, before easing her gently back on the table. When they finally caught their breaths and the haze of arousal began to ebb away, Trevor spoke.

“You got your orgasm,” he said as if that concluded the whole ordeal.

“I want another one.” She wiggled in his arms. She was still treating orgasms like fruit he could shove into a basket and bring home. “But this time use your penis.” And then she prodded the aforementioned organ a few times, like it was a sausage she was inspecting the temperature of.

“Stop that!” Trevor swatted her hand away when she wouldn’t stop poking. She giggled. And then he saw a mischievous smile creep into her face, and he knew he was doomed.

“Maybe I can help you,” she said and before Trevor could respond in kind, her eager fingers reached down and stroked the length of him. The sensation at first was dizzying, so much so that he had to reach for her shoulders to steady himself, but it quickly became apparent Sypha’s fingers were _too_ eager.

“Ouch, stop,” Trevor snapped, grabbing her hand. “Are you trying to snap it in half?”

“Well, we might as well try and see if that works.” Sypha snorted and then went quiet when Trevor didn’t share her amusement. But she seemed to realize, at least, that she had failed in her attempts to help him and had only heightened his anxiety. So she laid back and let Trevor lead.

And Trevor stared at her—slick with sweat, her chest heaving from the exertion—and he felt his arousal grow from the sight of her. It took a few more kisses, a few more thoughts of _Oh she still loves me even though I’m a fucking nervous idiot and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing_ before he willed himself to relax. Enough for blood to finally flow to where it mattered.

“Finally,” Sypha sighed at the organ between his legs like it was a dog that had finally decided to sit still.

He didn’t particularly want to admit it, but Trevor was currently too aroused to protest Sypha making fun of him. Not that she would have noticed. Trevor generally didn’t have many responses to her quips today.

He leaned in close and whispered to her, “Can I?” He ran his hand along her thigh, pressed himself against her sex to convey what he wanted.

“Yes,” Sypha said, giving him a lidded, tired smile. She stared up at him, at a lock of hair and began to twirl her finger around it.

Trevor slipped into her slowly, gently. Sypha did not moan or sigh or protest in any way. In fact, Trevor was surprised at how passive she was being. He expected her to instruct him somehow or demand he shift his position, but instead she was completely silent.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Sypha blushed and turned her head to the side. “I…” Up till this point, Sypha hadn’t taken her eyes off him, reveling in his face, his smile and later his body, but now she wouldn’t even look at him.

“I’m nervous!” she admitted, after a minute of her fumbling. Trevor didn’t know whether to laugh or breathe a sigh of relief.

“ _You’re_ nervous?” Trevor teased. “It took an entire hour for me to get my penis to function because of how nervous I am.”

“That’s different. You’re allowed to be stupid.”

“How is it stupid for me to be nervous about having sex with you?”

“Because we’re always comfortable with each other. No matter what, over this last year, we’ve always been able to talk to each other and…” Her speech hurriedly softened to a mumble, and she blushed again. “We never get nervous with each other. We shouldn’t.”

Trevor leaned into her cheek, feeling suddenly like the more experienced one. “And why shouldn’t we?”

“Because.” Sypha furrowed her brows and pouted.

Trevor laughed. “Now _you’re_ being silly. It’ll get better,” he promised.

He was relieved to see her frown and return to her regular scolding tone. “It had better.”

They both laughed, but that seemed to have appeased Sypha enough to relax. She returned to admiring his face, cradled his cheeks in her hands and smiled when he rocked against her. He could feel his arousal mounting again, liking the rhythmic lull of their bodies against each other, thinking of how he could stare at her smug, _stupid_ face forever and never stop loving her.

“Sypha,” he breathed into her cheek. The haze of arousal began to cloud Trevor’s mind again, and he found himself blurting out before he could stop himself, “You like how big I am?”

Sypha immediately snorted into a fit of laughter. “Don’t! Please don’t!” she managed between hitches of laughter. She leaned back against the table, slapping a hand over her face and turning bright red from laughing so much.

“What! I’m trying to be sexy,” he protested.

She waved her hand at him, still laughing. “ _That was not sexy_ ,” she wheezed.

He found himself at an odd place. He was still inside her, but she was _laughing_ at him and he could feel her rock against him as she laughed. He was caught between feeling aroused and feeling offended and frankly didn’t know _what_ to feel.

When she finally settled enough to make coherent sentences again, she said, “What did I say about you trying to be sexy?”

“Uh, to not?” He responded like she was quizzing him about a book on ghoul feeding habits.

“Mm-hmm,” Sypha giggled and pulled him into a kiss to appease his wounded look. Her kiss dissolved into something slow and sensual, to his surprise, instead of her usual pecks on the mouth. She traced a finger down the line of his hip bone and spurred him back into their rhythmic motions. But she kept a slow pace.

Their pace did very little for his erection, but he liked the way it felt nonetheless, liked the way she rocked gently against him smiling at him the whole while. Every so often when he managed to elicit a more tender feeling out of her, she would arch her back and close her eyes. He had no idea how long they went on like that for but he went on until he felt Sypha’s fingers creep down and guide his hand back between her folds. A few strokes and she shuddered against him with another orgasm.

When he felt himself tire, he slowed his pace and slackened over her, tucking his face into her neck.

“I’m tired,” he muttered, lips brushing against the sweat on her skin.

“So am I,” she whispered back. He could feel her smiling into his cheek. “But you want to finish, don’t you?”

“It’s not a priority.”

She lifted his head then. She looked so lovely in the dim lighting, flushed despite the darkness, smiling with weary satisfaction. He laughed into a kiss on her chest.

“I love you.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the words themselves, or the way she said it, or if his timing was just that awful, but the second she said them, he felt himself shudder with his release.

“Are you serious?” she looked up at him with a crooked smile.

“Shut up.”

And for the second time that night, she burst into laughter at him. Now with him no longer inside her, she was free to roll over on her side and slap her hands to her face, body wracking with uncontrollable giggles.

“Sypha,” he whined, then rested his chin on her shoulder like a lost dog seeking affection. “I did good, right?”

“You didn’t say ‘I love you’ back,” Sypha admonished, and then pouted.

“I love you,” he responded on command. She snorted into a laugh again, and he smiled reflexively.

“I could hear you laugh for the rest of my life.”

“Good, then, that you’re so easy to laugh at.” It was Trevor’s turn to pout, and she responded by giggling again. Trevor relaxed beside her and tucked his leg over her hip to pull her in close. She made herself comfortable over his shoulder and closed her eyes.

They laid like that for a long while. Occasionally their silence would be interrupted by Trevor teasing at Sypha’s skin and tickling her, only to have Sypha giggle and beg for him to stop until she’d slap his hip playfully and he’d snort with a laugh into her cheek. He leaned over her, brushing her hair with his fingers and smiling as he watched her stare up at him.

He really loved her, and, he realized, they’d both admitted it to each other without any hesitancy. It’d been as natural as the rest of the progression of their relationship. In fact, it hardly felt like a progression at all, when he’d admitted his love for her in ways other than words. Sex had hardly been an escalation. Just another avenue for them to explore, like they might explore an abandoned alley for demons and work together to hunt it.

He’d been alone for so long before meeting Sypha, he’d hardly registered the idea that a relationship might progress like this. Not in escalations but in steps sideways and in circles, like a web might become more whole no matter which way it went.

And Trevor looked at her, smiling in the dim light, and realized exactly how much he loved her.

“My butt hurts,” Sypha complained.

“Do you have to ruin the mood?” he complained back.

“You mean like when you ruined the mood when you started talking about your penis?”

Trevor’s response to that was to slide off the table and scoop her up in her arms. She squealed and giggled but hardly protested, and he took her away to their makeshift bed: the pile of pillows and blankets they’d found or collected in all their travels back and forth to this library. He slipped them both under the sheet they’d spread out on top of the shelves—a makeshift canopy and Sypha’s simple solution to Trevor’s complaint of waking up with dirt and gravel over his face every morning.

“Put me down,” Sypha ordered, bubbling with some newfound audacity.

“I’ll stuff you between one of these bookshelves,” he teased.

“And I’ll get a better orgasm from the pages than you could ever give me.” Trevor knew it was a tease, but he couldn’t hide how his face deflated at the words.

“No, no!” Sypha burst out, realizing her mistake. She untangled herself from Trevor’s arms and stood on her feet, kissing him roughly over the cheeks. “I was just joking! Your orgasms were perfect!” But her insistence hardly did anything to appease Trevor. She grabbed him by the arm and ushered him down onto the bed with her. “Lay with me.”

Trevor was pouting the whole while, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and pressing himself against her.

He whined.

“My God, you’re such a baby,” Sypha snapped, giggling.

Trevor squeezed her close. Sypha probably felt like a stuffed animal being manhandled right now. “I just…” He craned his head back, looking up at her. “You’re so amazing. You deserve someone…amazing, too. Someone who gives you amazing orgasms.”

Sypha snorted and then sunk down to his level. “Trevor.” Squeezed his cheeks between her hands. “You’re stupid.”

“That’s the point I’m trying to make here.”

But this time Sypha didn’t laugh or giggle. She shook her head. “Trevor if I didn’t like you or think you were good for me, or, God forbid, _good enough_ for me, I would have abandoned you a long time ago. You don’t need to be amazing for you to make me happy. And as for the orgasms, you didn’t do so bad. You’ll be giving me amazing orgasms soon enough, under my tutelage.”

Trevor ignored her smug tone. “Hold on a second,” he said. “Are you implying you’ve given other people with your anatomy orgasms before? Not that it’s any of my business,” he added hurriedly. “Or that it matters, or that I would imply any—”

Sypha shushed him with a finger. “Yes,” she answered simply and then giggled. “Now will you shut up and hold me? I’m exhausted from all the exertion.”

“You’re exhausted?” Trevor exclaimed. “ _I’m_ the one who did all the work.”

“Yes, and that is regrettable. But I’m still exhausted. Hold me,” she ordered, stretching out her arms.

Trevor furrowed his brows pitifully, but did as he was told.

Loving Sypha had its perks. And now, with his chin her soft hair and her warm body pressed against him, he was beginning to rethink whether there were any downsides at all to loving her.

Probably not.


End file.
